


White Canvas

by StarlightOnInk



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: APH America - Freeform, APH Russia - Freeform, Fluff, General, Hetalia, Human AU, Humor, M/M, Romance, RusAme, Snow Angels, Winter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-18
Updated: 2017-07-18
Packaged: 2018-12-03 20:08:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11539539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarlightOnInk/pseuds/StarlightOnInk
Summary: Alfred discovers a solitary snow angel. Unassuming enough, its isolation gives him pause: what does it mean? Ever curious, he formulates a way to respond to this peculiar message. RusAme / AmeRus human AU. Written for the RusAme Holiday Event.





	White Canvas

**White Canvas**

The local park by Alfred’s house was something of a hidden gem. Many of those who knew of its existence considered it something of their home away from home, a secluded place of beauty where they could escape and regroup from the stresses of life. The reason for it being such a popular secret so to speak was that you really needed to know it was there to find it; its location made it an island of clear space, carefully tended walkways, and an aging but beloved fountain in a sea of dense trees and shrubbery. Only two paths led in and out of this little oasis, and both were easy to miss or confuse for one-way streets leading to another neighborhood. And who had time for exploring in this fast-paced day and age?

Following a heavy snow, the place looked nothing short of magical, a winter wonderland of glistening majesty and subdued radiance. Pines shimmered in the sun, dark green coated by a dusting of white, branches sagging tiredly under the added weight. If it was bright enough, onlookers could be left snowblind. The stone pathway cutting through the open stretch of landscape looked as if it surely led to some Christmas village of warm hearths, sweet-scented foods, and tender hearts. Even in the cold, something about the imagery bore a promise of warmth.

After a day of classes, this was a nice place to unwind for someone such as Alfred, a stark contrast to the cacophony and clamor and excitement he usually embraced during his high school life. At night, when the skies were clear, it even provided a way to see the stars. During the late afternoon, though, such as now, this park was simply a good place to calm down and socialize with anyone else who might be there.

He settled at his usual bench just beside a mighty willow. He raised a gloved hand in greeting as a dog walker passed, the same individual who walked his German shepherds though every day it was not too cold. The man’s stern face softened for a moment as he nodded and returned the wave.

Alfred smiled, leaning back and yawning widely. A worn-out dark blue backpack sat beside him, containing his classwork, books, and music player. He had just been about to retrieve the latter, intent on listening to some tunes, when he spotted it. Just across the road, in the middle of a stretch of otherwise undisturbed snow, was a snow angel. Nothing should have stood out about it, yet something ended up catching Alfred’s eye. He arose and strode over. Upon closer inspection, Alfred could see what might have caught his attention. Perhaps it was the sheer size of the creation; judging by the profile. Whoever made this was rather tall indeed- taller than Alfred, certainly; there was one other person Alfred knew who could be considered that large, but said classmate was usually hunched over in his seat as if trying to appear smaller, so it was sometimes hard to tell. And what also made this snow angel peculiar was the fact that it was the only one. Only one set of footprints leaded to and away from it. Surely such an activity was something done with others, in a bout of merriment to celebrate the holidays.

Well, Alfred amended, not necessarily. It seemed like something he himself might do, disrupt every inch of smooth snow in the park with snow angels just for the fun of it. The visualization excited him. He continued staring down at the lonely snow angel, contemplating for a moment how it got there, who made it, when, why. Alfred glanced around. Others continued to go about their leisurely activities, not paying him any mind. Looking down once more, Alfred shrugged. Carefully, he laid himself down near the snow angel, spread his arms and legs, and made one of his own. The snow stung his wrists where it creeped in between his coat sleeves and gloves, but he paid it no mind. The hard part was, as always, rising and moving away without ruining the snowy creation. He did so slowly, clumsily, leaving a handprint where one of his legs had been which he hastily tried to smooth out. Giving it a slow look over, he nodded in approval before making a final adjustment. At the head of the snow angel he carved with his finger a small little arc to represent that stubborn lock of hair of his that always stood on end. His smile grew. His and the stranger’s snow angels lay a few feet apart, the original now not so alone anymore. Shivering, Alfred retrieved his backpack and headed home with an inexplicable sense of accomplishment.

The next day, about a dozen feet from the two snow angels, another one was made. It was the same impossibly large form as before, but this time, at the area where the creator’s head had rested were drawn eyes and a mouth forming a small ‘o’ as if in question. Above had been drawn a single question mark. Alfred’s heart leapt with childish excitement and glee. Carefully positioning himself once more, he made another snow angel beside the larger one, still about a foot away. Scrambling up, he gave his eyes as well and a broad smile, writing “HELLO.” His gaze roved around the park, but saw nothing or no one that stood out. Sometime later, he returned home.

The next day’s snow angel had a very small, almost hesitant smile and the words “Do I know you?” written nearby. Alfred did not hesitate in making another, this one slightly closed to the larger snow angel. “Name’s Al” he wrote, still with that same smile. Again he looked around, but it seemed whoever was making these lonely snow angels that were not so lonely anymore did not stay for long afterwards.

Classes let out early the next day for holiday break. Alfred made a beeline for his park retreat.

And so did the mystery man making the other snow angels.

Alfred rounded the corner passed the thick copse of trees to get a broad view of the clearing. The dog walker was not yet here, some college students were trying to skate on the frozen fountain, and in the distance a figure was hunched over in the snow. Alfred rushed over but paused some distance away, hesitating. Quick as a flash he retreated to stand by the fountain, knelt down as if inspecting the ice, but in truth trying to subtly observe the person he’d been communicating with. The giant of a man finished his work and straightened, glancing around. Alfred saw a pale head of beige hair, broad shoulders, a protuberant nose, and vibrant violet eyes.

It was Ivan, his classmate, the one who always ended up keeping to himself.

Alfred’s insides ached suddenly. He knew Ivan from some classes they’d shared, and some time spent together in the astronomy club- until the school cut funding for it because of budget cuts. In that time they’d had together, he’d been one of the few to take it the most seriously, and had seemed particularly devastated when it was disbanded. Alfred knew Ivan probably liked it as a place to be with others, but even so he’d always felt the greatest reason for Ivan’s disappointment had been because he’d simply genuinely been enthusiastic for the subject. It was something Alfred could appreciate and relate to, and they’d made some small talk about it in the past.

He also remembered Ivan as the classmate who, when someone grabbed Alfred’s glasses right off his face and snapped them in half, had picked up the perpetrator and placed him bodily in a trashcan. Not a word had been said, he’d simply looked intently at Alfred before closing the lid of the can, and Alfred had never been bothered since.

Alfred continued to watch as Ivan left, the tall man looking remarkably at home in the snowy landscape. As he watched, his brain forged a plan.

As expected, the snow angel he made in response to Ivan’s was seen and responded to in kind. That next day, Alfred laid himself down so the arc of his arm cut into Ivan’s, as if their snow angels were holding hands. He added nothing else besides including the notch representing his lock of hair.

And that next day, he watched from beside the fountain as Ivan entered the park, heading immediately for the stretch of snow they’d been using. From his vantage point, Alfred watched as Ivan simply stared for a long time at the two snow angels, and even with his back turned Alfred was sure he could see the gears turning in Ivan’s brain as he tried to process this development. Slowly, as if dragging himself through a dense fog, Ivan moved away to find a clear patch of untouched snow. He laid himself down, and that was when Alfred acted. He crossed the distance hurriedly as Ivan moved his arms and legs back and forth. Ivan, hearing the crunching of snow under boots, glanced over. When his eyes found Alfred’s approach, he started, making to sit up. But Alfred had already laid down beside him and began moving his own arms and legs. As his hand swept near, he clasped Ivan’s keeping him anchored there. Alfred glanced sideways, fighting down a laugh when he saw Ivan’s astonished expression. He waited. When Ivan made no sign of lowering himself down again Alfred, still holding his hand, moved his arms and legs again. Slowly, hesitantly, Ivan did the same.

“Hey,” Alfred said up to the sky.

There was a pause. “Hello,” Ivan said at last.

Alfred’s head turned. The cheek pressed against the snow felt numb, but he could see the tip of Ivan’s nose poking out over the snow. “You doing anything during break? Wanna hang out?”

There was a muffled sound of snow caving under pressure as Ivan’s head turned as well. A large violet eye stared over at Alfred. “You want to hang out with me?” he clarified, blinking.

Alfred smiled, nodding. “Yeah. We don’t really get to since the club broke up, but who says we have to do that stuff through the school? I asked for a pretty sweet telescope for Christmas- we can test it out. Or go to a planetarium in the meantime.”

Ivan continued to gape at him, that one visible eye displaying a whole array of confusion and an aching kind of hope. “That would be fun,” he said at last. He sat up, snow coating the back of his coat, arms, and hair. It was a surprisingly attractive sight. Ivan extended a large pale hand to help Alfred up, which he accepted with a grunt of thanks. They clambered to their feet, not being particularly careful but not really needing to be. There existed now a sparkling white canvas depicting this rendezvous of two souls. Though the final two snow angels bore no smiles drawn in, they marked the spot where hands had been held and a spark ignited.

THE END


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